


Dark Corners of the Mind

by TCRegan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders discovers that Justice is hiding a memory from him. He asks Hawke for help. Unfortunately, some things are best left hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The headboard rocked against the wall with a slowly rhythmic thumping. Anders closed his eyes, feeling the light, fluttery kisses as Hawke pressed his lips against them, a brush against his cheek, his ear as he whispered.

"I love you."

Anders gripped him tighter. For years, he'd only ever dared to dream that one day he'd hear those words from Hawke. "I love you," he managed, cutting off with a moan as Hawke thrust deeper into him.

They had rutted, fucked. Their first time was a frenzy of movement, but tonight Anders set the slow pace. Hawke didn't mind, so in tune with Anders as they moved together. 

"Mine," Hawke whispered, kissing him again.

When they parted, Anders opened his eyes. Before him, not the deep green of Hawke's, nor the bearded, stubbly jaw. Instead, cold, steely blue. Long, sunshine yellow hair. Something inside Anders snapped. Panic raced through him, a surge of adrenaline rushing up like a violent tide. Suddenly Hawke's weight on him, seconds ago strong and comforting, felt like a lead weight.

"GET OFF! GET OFF!" he screamed.

The sudden exclamation startled Hawke into movement. He quickly pulled out, sitting up, taking Anders with him. "What's wrong? What is it? Anders, love, talk to me."

Anders fought for breath, clutching wildly at the air. His hand found Hawke's and he held on like a man drowning. Another hand, warm and firm on his back, rubbing gently. His vision blurred a moment and he blinked. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and inside he felt Justice roar with indignation.

"What is it?" Hawke asked again. "Oh, love, please." He gently brushed away Anders' tears and pulled him into an embrace. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No," Anders gasped. "No. It wasn't… I'm sorry. I just…"

He pushed up from the mattress, grateful when Hawke let him go. Reaching down he grabbed his smallclothes from the floor, yanking them up over his hips. Six months ago he would've fled, perhaps stealing downstairs through the basement to his clinic. Something happened, something changed. Sex with Hawke was always good, better than he'd ever imagined. He never thought he'd deserve someone like him, and now… now something was trying to force its way into his brain. Was it Justice? Trying to take over?

Hawke rolled from the bed, pulling on a robe. He stopped within arm's reach, hesitating. "Talk to me."

"A memory. I think. Maybe. Something terrible. I can't… I can't focus on it. Every time I reach for it, it's like Justice is pulling it back, peeling it away. Maybe something that that happened when I lost control. I-" He looked down at his hands, expecting blood. They were clean, nails trimmed and scrubbed from his earlier bath. His skin smelled like lavender and sweat and sex, not blood and death. Not the taint. It was easy to forget that part of himself when he was with Hawke. Easy to forget Justice. But now…

"Do you want to remember?" Hawke asked gently. He put a hand on Anders' shoulder, turning him around.

Anders leaned into the touch as Hawke cupped his cheek. "I don't know." He leaned his forehead against Hawke's, eyes closed.

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding one another, Anders gripping the front of his robe. Eventually he calmed down, the shaking subsiding. Stepping forward, his arms slid around Hawke's waist and he gripped onto him.

"I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

Hawke scoffed, a light brush of air past Anders' ear. He tightened his hold on him and said, "I don't care. It's what I want."

"You want a broken man? Someone who has literal demons as baggage?"

"I want you," Hawke muttered, turning his head to kiss Anders on the neck.

He did it again, and Anders finally relaxed.

"Can we… can we just go to bed? Things will be different in the morning. I swear it."

Hawke nodded, guiding him back to bed. He disrobed and together they climbed under the covers. Anders settled back into Hawke's embrace, feeling safe with his lover's arm around him, holding him close. Sleep, however, was a long time in coming.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Anders shook his head. "No. Not at all. But the last time we were in the Fade, Justice came out. I could see myself, feel myself. I remembered what he remembered. I saw you fighting Torpor and with Feynriel's demons. I was a puppet in my own skin, but I remembered. This memory… this will haunt me unless I can find it. And I think Justice has the answers. Please," he said, turning to Hawke, cupping his cheek. "Please, love."

Hawke turned his head, kissing his palm gently, and nodded. "The second I sense any kind of danger though, we're leaving."

"Agreed."

Keeper Marethari had declined their pleas for help. It had taken two weeks to find a suitable substitute to aid them in entering the Fade to discover more about Anders' nightmares. They had tried to forget it, but every time they made love Anders' memories flashed with something painful, something horrific. Something he couldn't quite remember and when he grasped pieces, Justice was there to snatch it back, out of his reach.

The expert in the Fade that they found was a Tevinter magister. As loath as Hawke had been to accept help from a slaver, his need to protect his lover came first. They traveled to Solas rather than to bring the man to Kirkwall. Hawke didn't need Kirkwall's nobles whispering behind their hands when a magister showed up on his doorstep. The month vacation as he called it was long overdue anyway. He'd only told Varric the truth, just in case things went horribly wrong.

Faustinus Scaevola was a tall, reedy man with a sharp goatee and piercing violet eyes. His estate was enormous, set against rolling plains and a vast vineyard that he walked them through, gesturing wildly as he spoke about himself. Hawke's patience was growing thin. They hadn't come there for a tour. Anders clasped his hand tightly, fingers entwining, sensing his lover's irritation.

"So," Faustinus said at last, once they boarded an elaborate gilded carriage back to the estate, "you need my help."

"Yes," Hawke said, trying to ignore the fact that the carriage was pulled by four slaves, rather than horses or halla.

"We'll dine first," he replied, his accent so thick that Hawke could barely make out the words. "Then we'll retire to my laboratory whereupon I will perform the ritual."

"And I can expect discretion," Hawke stated. "I'd rather not have the rest of the Imperium or the Free Marches know about… this."

Faustinus chuckled, eyes shining. "Of course, my dear Champion. Your status is well known. The gold you've provided for my services and my silence is adequate enough. You have my word."

The word of a slaver, Hawke thought, and Anders squeezed his hand again. "Thank you," he managed.

They dined that evening on roasted pheasant, all manner of fruits and cheese and the widest array of olives Hawke had ever seen. Had he been there merely for a social visit, he would've sampled every bit of wine that came across his place setting. As it was, he would need his wits about him to enter the Fade and reemerge safely. Anders, quiet next to him, was happy to let Hawke do the socializing. Lucky enough for him that consisted of nodding when Faustinus paused, and chuckling at whatever weak joke left his lips.

Finally after several agonizingly long hours, Faustinus proclaimed that it was time. He lit glowlamps on the way down to his laboratory, which was apparently deep under his estate. The winding spiral staircase was well-lit and well-maintained, and it was less a descent into a dungeon and more into an ancient, cavernous library. It did nothing to ease Hawke's concern however, and he kept glancing at Anders.

"I'm all right," Anders assured him. 

His claustrophobia was well remembered by Hawke. He was proud of Anders for this, forging ahead when he must be feeling the walls so close. Reaching out, he took his hand and gave it a light squeeze. Maker willing, this would all be over shortly and they could return home with answers.

The room Faustinus brought them to had the appearance of a wide, low ceilinged library. Shelves lined the stone walls, and the floors were made of some dark wood that stank of ash. A circular rug took up much of the middle, and around it were dozens of half-melted wax candles in varying color. Faustinus waved his hand and they all lit at once. He started a fire in the fireplace at the head of the room, and extinguished the glowlamps. It was dim and eerie. Perfect for a blood ritual.

"Go kneel in the center with your lover," Faustinus said, plucking a tome from the shelves. He pulled a wicked looking silver dagger from his belt and rolled up his sleeve.

"This is the last chance to change your mind," Hawke said, as they approached the rug. His heart pounded. Blood magic was extremely powerful, extremely dangerous.

"I need to find out what happened," Anders said, kneeling, pulling Hawke with him. He gently cupped Hawke's face, leaning in to kiss him.

Hawke sighed, allowing the kiss, but hardly relaxed. Faustinus instructed them to roll up their sleeves. Hawke did so, unbuttoning his cufflink and exposing his wrist. Faustinus passed an onyx goblet under them as he spoke an incantation in Ancient Tevene. Hawke barely felt the cut, but watched as several ruby red droplets of his blood hit the goblet, mixing next with Anders'. Faustinus stepped back out of the circle of candles and opened a vein in his own arm.

Almost instantly Hawke closed his eyes, feeling the pull of the Fade. The Veil shifted around them and he redoubled his hold on Anders. When he was able to open them, Anders was there, but Justice had emerged, and he was livid.

"WHY?" he bellowed. "Why do you do this? You claim to love him," he spat, jerking away, pointing at Hawke. "You would have him return to his memories? Relive what I have tried to keep him safe from?"

Hawke got to his feet, ignoring the weird push and pull, the sway he felt whenever he entered the Fade. He tried to remember what Merrill said to him. In the Fade, only believe in yourself. Only you are real. Everything else is a trick or a trap.

"We need to know, Justice," he said resolutely. "Anders wanted to know."

"Anders is preoccupied with human trivialities."

There it was – the anger Hawke had been expecting since he and Anders had started their affair. He wondered how loudly Justice protested inside Anders' mind, how much pain and uncertainty his lover was keeping from him. If this reaction was any indication, he owed this and more to Anders to figure out what had happened.

"You will show me," Hawke said. "And you will let him remember. He doesn't need you to protect him."

Justice scoffed. "You claim to know him, human. You claim to know his desires, his wants. His will. With me, Anders will be the shining beacon of hope for all magekind. We will kill every last Templar, raze every single Chantry. The mages will be free, and only I can help him!"

Hawke felt a spike of icy fear run down his spine. Anders had been fervent in his desires, almost manic. Did it all come from Justice? Just how hard did Anders have to hold on in order to not lose himself to this… this spirit?

"Show me," Hawke ordered.

Justice sneered, the expression odd and unnatural on Anders' face. But he walked. Hawke followed. The Fade shifted, the Veil flickering a moment and he could see Faustinus's study, then it was gone. Instead, they were in Templar Hall in the Gallows at Kirkwall. Up the winding stairs, passing room after room until finally they stopped. It was a room Hawke had never seen before. Justice glowered at him and pushed the door open.

Hawke stopped on the threshold.

"No," he gasped.

"Now you see," Justice whispered. "Now, human, you see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you guys have read my other stuff (mostly Compliance and Sedition) you'll recognize the OC here. This was actually the first inception of him. I needed a Tevinter magister who was highly skilled in the Fade, did a little name research and out came Faustinus. He holds a dear spot in my heart, along with my other OC magisters. ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

It was just a vision, just a trick of the Fade, Hawke tried to remind himself. But it was more than that. It was a memory, locked away deep inside Anders' brain, guarded by Justice. And now Justice had opened the door for him. Hawke desperately wished it had remained shut. Strung up, wrists and ankles bound, bloodied, Anders lay naked before him.

The table he was tied to was wooden, covered with blood, on a rotating wheel that allowed his tormentors to tip him forward and back at a forty-five degree angle. Vicious, deep cuts in his legs and arms bled freely and it was a wonder he was still alive. A man Hawke immediately recognized as Ser Alrik paced behind him, holding a riding crop in one hand, a flask of lyrium in the other. He looked positively deranged, even more so than he'd had when Hawke had taken his head months ago in the caverns under the Gallows. The door to their left swung open and a stocky blond woman strode in. It took Hawke a moment to recognize her.

Meredith. But she wasn't wearing her armor, just a long dressing gown tied loosely at the waist. She waved Ser Alrik away. "Leave him to me for now. You've had your fun."

Alrik bowed and left the room. Hawke started forward, but felt the burn of Justice's hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.

"You wanted to know," he said. "You will watch."

The near unconscious Anders raised his head a bit as Meredith turned a crank. The table moved into a horizontal position, and Hawke clenched his fists. He knew there was nothing he could do. This was a memory, it was in the past. But it didn't stop him from wanting to run to them, to knock Meredith flat, beat her bloody, and bring Anders back to him.

"Wha?" came Anders' confused, raspy tone.

"You were caught bringing mages out of the city. Do you deny your crimes?" Meredith asked, pacing back and forth.

Anders watched her through half-lidded eyes, apparently drugged as well as beaten. He cried out in pain when Meredith grabbed his thigh, hand over a particularly deep wound. Hawke flinched, reaching out, but Justice restrained him.

"Confess your crimes and you may only be made Tranquil. And if you're lucky," Meredith added, "I might even throw you back to your precious lover."

"Hawke," Anders gasped.

Cold fury had taken over, replacing any semblance of proper thought. Hawke had only thought that 'seeing red' was an expression, but it couldn't accurately describe the rage boiling inside his chest. Justice had him now by both arms and he was fighting against the spirit. Logic held no place for him. He would rescue Anders, he would get to him, save him. It didn't matter that this was only a memory.

Meredith's hand moved up Anders' thigh. "Yes, Hawke," she agreed. "Tell me, how would he react, knowing you submitted to Ser Alrik so willingly? You could hear the moans three doors down as he fucked you. Are all apostates such filthy whores?"

Alrik. Alrik had touched him. Touched _his_ Anders. Hawke's muscles strained against Justice's pull.

Anders merely groaned, turning his head away, then gasped when she took his flaccid cock into her hand.

"Get your fucking hands off him!" Hawke screamed, but Meredith couldn't hear him.

She began to stroke, and despite his condition, Anders grew hard under her touch. He pulled futilely at his bonds, his strength all but gone but his instincts kicking in overdrive. He tried to pull away from her, but it was useless. She disrobed, naked now, and straddled his hips. His blood smeared against her thighs, but she paid it no mind as she leaned over him, gripping his chin tightly, forcing him to look at her.

"Your precious Hawke can't save you. He's in Orlais at a party, fucking the mouth of some willing dandy as they feed him cheese and pour him wine. He's receiving the accolades he rightly deserves. Did you wonder why he didn't bring you? He doesn't need you. He entertains your silly notion of freeing the mages for his dead sister's memory. Behind your back, he agrees with the other Kirkwall nobles that you're getting too dangerous. That he only keeps you around because of your sweet lips that are better put to use pleasuring him than uttering a single word."

She traced her forefinger around his lips and he jerked his head away. Hawke felt his heart break as Anders started to cry.

"Don't listen to her," Hawke whispered, desperate for Anders to hear him. "It's not true."

Meredith laughed, a soft, derisive chuckle. "I should cut out your tongue. But first, I want to hear you moan."

She gripped his erection at the base and thrust down, sheathing him inside her with one swift motion. Anders cried out, shutting his eyes against the pleasure-pain as she started to ride him. Her nails scraped down his chest, dragging through his wounds, leaving ten thin trails of blood from his neck to his navel. Hawked wanted to look away, but Justice shook him hard, forcing him to watch. He felt tears upon his own face as Meredith violated his lover, laughing as she did so.

She leaned over once more, planting a kiss on the side of his mouth. Anders jerked away, turning his head to the side. For one brief, impossible moment, his eyes met Hawke's. Hot amber met soft green, and it was as if Anders could see Hawke standing there, watching his torment. He blinked, and the moment was over. He turned to look at Meredith, who continued to thrust, trying to force him to orgasm.

"He loves me," Anders whispered.

It was difficult to tell if Meredith heard him, as she didn't react. A second later though, she looked down, and laughed. "You're lucky I don't bring Ser Alrik back. We have an array of aphrodisiacs for the… less than willing ones. But I think you've learned your lesson." She slid off him, his cock no longer hard, and plucked his shirt from the floor.

Hawke struggled again as she cleaned herself off, tossing the shirt at Anders' face before redressing. He would kill her. He would have her head on a pike in his foyer. Her bones would be chew toys for his dog.

"You proved a well enough distraction," she said. "Perhaps you've learned your lesson about helping my mages escape. Alrik!"

Ser Alrik reappeared in the doorway.

"See that he's healed up and dumped in Darktown somewhere. We don't need this coming back to us."

Alrik nodded, and Meredith left. Hawke heard one last final plea from Anders before the Fade took away the vision.

"Hawke."

Hawke pitched forward, fighting for air as the Veil shifted. He felt the familiar warm weight of Anders against him. The front of his own shirt soaked in sweat and tears as his lover clung to him. Immediately he wrapped himself around Anders, pulling him close, into his lap, pressing his cheek to the top of his head.

"I've got you," he whispered. "I've got you."

Shifting sounds behind him, he jerked his head up to see Faustinus healing the wound on his wrist, lighting the glowlamps. His expression was unfathomable.

"Serah," Hawke said. "I need to beg your hospitality for the evening. We're in no state-"

"No," Anders gasped, still clinging to him. "I want to go home, Hawke. Take me home." His quiet whispers belied his desperation, his entire body tense and coiled.

Hawke looked to Faustinus, who nodded. "I will call for a carriage and have your things brought."

"Thank you," Hawke breathed. He never thought he'd be so grateful to someone like Faustinus, a blood mage who kept slaves. Now was neither the time nor the place to think about the morality of it, and instead, he thanked the Maker that Faustinus seemed to at least have some compassion.

He held Anders for a few minutes longer, gently stroking his hair until an elven girl, no older than ten, approached. She delicately cleared her throat, and Hawke looked up. She immediately curtsied.

"Master says the carriage is ready."

Hawke gathered Anders in his arms. Though the only wound he sported now was the slight cut that Faustinus made on his arm, he must have retained residual pain from the memory. Limping, he leaned heavily on Hawke as they ascended. Hawke half-carried him out, accepting a cloak from another slave to drape over his lover's shoulders. The carriage, thankfully, was pulled by two able-looking horses. The cab itself was black and sleek, but unmarked.

"My boy will take you as close to Kirkwall as the horses are able," Faustinus said. "Tell him if you need to stop, otherwise he'll keep going except to switch horses along the way."

"Thank you for everything," Hawke said graciously, helping Anders up into the carriage. He offered a hand to Faustinus, who took it, barely able to hide his surprise. "I appreciate your help and discretion."

"Of course, serah. Safe travels."

Hawke climbed in after, and one of Faustinus's boys hopped up at the front. He clicked his tongue, snapping the reins, and they were off. Hawke only hoped that Anders would recover. Perhaps Justice had been right, maybe some memories were best left locked up.


	4. Chapter 4

They didn't speak much on the return trip, and Hawke was never so grateful to see Kirkwall as he was that evening. Anders was silent as they wound their way through Hightown, the late hour leaving the streets mercifully empty. Hawke fumbled the key trying to unlock the door, and sighed heavily as it clicked open. The hall was empty, cold, and dark. He'd sent Bodahn and the others to stay with Fenris for the duration of his time away.

"I'll start a fire and see what's in the larder," Hawke said, moving to the hearth.

"Don't bother."

Hawke frowned, watching as Anders ghosted up the stairs. Not for the first time since they left Solas, he found himself regretting the decision to pursue this. Taking the steps two at a time, he followed Anders into the bedroom. Anders stripped to his smallclothes, flicking his palm at the fireplace. A ball of flame flew to the cold ashes, immediately kindling them. The room filled with a soft glow and comforting warmth. Hawke stood in the doorway, unsure what Anders needed right now, but willing to do anything just to fix this.

Anders climbed under the covers. "Come to bed," he said softly, taking pity on Hawke.

Hawke undressed and joined him, lifting his arm as Anders slid closer to rest his head on Hawke's chest. Relaxing a bit, Hawke held him protectively, fingertips slowly stroking his skin, and waited. The fire crackled, and his eyelids began to droop after quarter of an hour. Finally, Anders spoke, stirring him to consciousness.

"This is why mages must be allowed to govern themselves."

"I don't follow," Hawke said, stifling a yawn. He tucked his free arm under his head, looking down at Anders.

Anders frowned, and while Hawke couldn't see it, he felt it against his chest. "I'm not the only one who's been subjected to this. I'm simply the only one fortunate – or unfortunate – enough to have someone like Justice to keep the memory from me. The mages in the Gallows and all the other Circles, they have to live with that…"

Hawke hugged him tightly and felt hot tears on his chest. Anders was crying. "Love?" he asked, relaxing his hold on him.

Anders looked up at him, eyes glassy and flickering in the firelight. "We have to stop her. Meredith and everyone like her. Promise me…" His hand on Hawke's chest curled into a fist. "Promise me that if I die-"

"Hey!" Hawke interjected. "Anders, don't-"

"No. Garrett, listen." Anders leaned up on his elbow in order to look down at Hawke.

Hawke would have been startled by his intensity, but years of being with Anders had left him extremely familiar with just how passionate his lover could be. "Tell me."

"Promise me that if I die, you'll stop her. You'll take up my cause. I wouldn't normally ask this of you. Of anyone. This is my fight, but…"

Hawke sat up, cupping Anders' cheek. "If you die, it will be with me. But I promise," he added, kissing him softly.

Anders returned it almost desperately. "I love you," he whispered against Hawke's lips as they broke apart.

Hawke rested his forehead against Anders'. "I love you too. I'll make you another promise."

"Mm?"

"I will get you Meredith's head before this is all over."

Anders let out a quick, shaky laugh. "It would look lovely just over the fireplace in the library."

"I need to replace that ugly statue anyway," Hawke agreed.

He pulled Anders close, kissing him again before bringing him down to the mattress. Anders curled up against him, and Hawke fell asleep slowly, plans of revenge filling his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. Just a little fic that I wrote awhile ago that needed to get posted. I'll probably be posting up shorter works as I write them while I work on something much larger that's consuming every bit of my creative energy when I'm focused on it.
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys. Really appreciate all the love and feedback. :)


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